


Caught Me Red-Handed

by mellifluousmalady



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Lesbian Beverly Marsh, M/M, OR IS IT??, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Trans Eddie Kaspbrak, i haven’t actually finished this yet so, if u squint, ill add more tags later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-06-28 04:05:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellifluousmalady/pseuds/mellifluousmalady
Summary: On the morning of your seventeenth birthday, you wake up with a colored mark in the first place your soulmate will touch you from that day forward. Only you are able to see it until the contact is made. This leads to some people being very careful with touch, others being incredibly loose with it. Both are out of fear.———Stan Uris had never really been one for soulmates. The idea that he was made for somebody out there, to him, had always felt rather suffocating. He liked things that fit perfectly together, that was never the issue, it was just that Stan was terribly fond of the freedom to choose when he had it. Most of the things in Stan’s life were decided for him, and he hated that the person he was to spend his life with was one of them.And yet, on his fifteenth birthday, Stan woke at five in the morning with a burning urgency to check for his soulmark.





	1. Some Explosion Cause a Redshift

Stan Uris had never really been one for soulmates. The idea that he was made for somebody out there, to him, had always felt rather suffocating. He liked things that fit perfectly together, that was never the issue, it was just that Stan was terribly fond of the freedom to choose when he had it. Most of the things in Stan’s life were decided for him, and he hated that the person he was to spend his life with was one of them.

And yet, on his fifteenth birthday, Stan woke at five in the morning with a burning urgency to check for his soulmark. He pushed it down and rolled over, but sleep did not come. Irritated, he flicked off his alarm and stretched. Maybe he couldn’t get back to sleep, but he could suppress the urge to check it. So he leaned over and picked up a paperback that Bill had lent him. He was about a fifth of the way through it, and Stan made a silent promise to himself that he would finish the book before he checked for a mark.

So two and a half hours passed with Stan’s stomach pressed into his mattress, his feet in the air, and his precautionary pajamas still on. Two and a half hours of ignoring the very thing he was supposed to be celebrating. Two and a half hours of pretending he wasn’t putting it off out of fear. As he came to the ending, Stan pulled the collar of his hoodie up around his mouth and bit it. Maybe he should ask Bill for more recommendations, because the boy had good taste. If Stan was the type, he’d probably be crying. He had only just set the book back down on his nightstand, hands crossed over the hem of his hoodie when he heard a knock at his bedroom door. “Stan, honey!”

He sighed and dropped his hands back into his lap. “Yes, Ma?”

Ms. Uris opened the door just enough to pop her head in. “There’s someone at the door for you. Happy birthday, baby!”

Stan groaned and walked over to the door., stepping into his slippers. “Thanks, Ma.” He padded down the stairs, rubbing one eye sleepily with the back of his hand. He yawned as he stepped out onto the front porch to find none other than Richie Tozier, who grabbed his sleeve and tugged him out toward the street. “Richie! I’m not dressed, I haven’t showered, I’m not even wearing shoes!”

The other boy just grinned. “Happy birthday, Staniel! We’re going swimming at the quarry, so you won’t need anything.” He turned back to look at Stan and waggled his eyebrows. “Unless you sleep commando.”

Stan rolled his eyes. He was tempted to say that he did so he’d have an excuse to go back and change, but knowing Richie, that wasn’t a great idea. The boy would probably yank his pajama pants down to prove a point and then make him go anyway. So, begrudgingly, he let himself be led down to the quarry.

Upon arriving, the view was almost enough to make him forget his nerves. His friends were all gathered around one rock, some of them holding parcels and packages, some of them empty-handed but smiling broadly. Ben was holding a cupcake on a plate, his face illuminated by the candle on top.

Richie stuck out his arms as if presenting the whole scene. “Ta-da!” He said, grinning from ear to ear. A wobbly smile spread across Stan’s own face at his friends’ display of affection. He reached forward to take the plate away from Ben and blew out the candle, making a silent wish as he did so. Bill gave him a knowing look.

“Now,” Richie announced, “We’re going swimming!” The others shrugged and complied, peeling off their socks and shoes. Stan just stood there, frozen. Fuck. They were going to see his soulmark. Before he did. Before he knew where it was. Before he could make sure that no one... Just. Fuck.

Richie furrowed his eyebrows and walked over to him. “Come on, Stan. Take off your clothes.” Stan took a step back and shook his head. “What? It’s not like we haven’t seen you before. Don’t get all modest now, Stanny boy. You’re a real looker.” Stan could feel his cheeks getting hot, but he shook his head again, adamantly. He looked over at Bill with wide eyes.

Bill raised his eyebrows, cocking his head at Stan before it dawned on him. “Richie, don’t!” Too little, too late. Richie was already grabbing at Stan’s hips. He jerked away as Richie looked over his shoulder, distracted.

“What? It’s all in good fun, it’s not gonna hurt him.”

Stan looked up at him. “Richie, please. Just leave it alone.” His face was hard, but there was a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow. He pushed Richie away.

Richie stumbled backward overdramatically. “Whew. Stan the Man doesn’t know his own strength.” He quipped, turning back to the other Losers for a moment before he lunged forward and yanked at the loose fabric around Stan’s knees. “See, now that wasn’t so-“ Richie’s mouth clamped shut. Stan followed his gaze.

Peeking over the waistband of Stan’s blue boxer briefs were the majority of two angry red handprints. Stan’s face twisted and Richie opened his mouth to defend himself. Before he could say anything, he was cut off by Stan’s right hand colliding with his cheek. His glasses flew off and tumbled into the dirt. Another angry red handprint grew on Richie’s face to match the two on Stan’s hips. Richie rubbed at it.

“Okay. I deserved that.” He mumbled, bending down to pick up his glasses. Quickly stripping off his hoodie, Stan pushed past him and took the plunge into the lake.

The other Losers stood, half-undressed, mouths agape. Bill was the first to speak. “Rich... you sh-should go after him.” Some of the others nodded their agreement. “He didn’t even kn-know... He texted me this morning that he w-w-wasn’t going to look until he fi-finished the book I lent him. And th-then I never got another t-text.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I know y-you didn’t mean to, but you t-t-took that from him.”

Mike chimed in. “Yeah. Soulmarks are really intimate, Richie. I remember I didn’t let anyone touch my shoulder for a long time after I saw it.” He mumbled, referring to the sunny orange handprint on the back of his shoulder blade. Next to him, Ben squeezed his hand.

Listening to Mike, it dawned on Richie the actual gravity of the situation. He hadn’t just revealed Stan’s soulmark. He was the one who’d caused it in the first place. And Stan hadn’t known that until after it happened. He’d been confronted with the fact at the same time as everyone else here. He didn’t even get to tell Richie, like Mike had been able to with Ben.

Richie had fucked up. Bad. And now he had to fix it.


	2. Why in the World You’re Drifting Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan thought back to all the times he’d wished that Richie would be his soulmate. There were plenty.

Stan swam as far away from the rocks as he could before he was too exhausted to kick his legs even one more time. As it turned out, the whole soulmark ordeal took a lot out of you. Who would’ve guessed? Stan laughed bitterly to himself, turning onto his back and bringing his feet up to the surface of the water.

Stan thought back to all the times he’d wished that Richie would be his soulmate. There were plenty.

The first time Stan could remember had been in seventh grade. He’d been held back a year when he got mono, originally. But he was smart enough to land himself in a lot of classes with the other Losers. Eventually, the school had just given up and let him skip a grade. One of the classes he’d shared with Richie that year was health.

Stan hated health class. He also shared the period with a few too many kids who talked too loud, and liked to poke fun whenever they had the opportunity. But not the way Richie did. Keegan and Cole were mean, and their words always held a bite, in juxtaposition with the prodding finger of Richie’s jokes.

He’d dreaded the sex ed quarter more than he could remember ever dreading a unit in his life. And rightfully so. Stanley Uris was Jewish, that was common knowledge. Therefore, at age 13, he was also circumcised- this knowledge was quite a bit more common than Stan would have liked it to be. So naturally, when circumcision came up on the notes, most of the class whipped around to look at him.

“Why don’t ya give the class a nice example, Uris?” Cole had sneered, elbowing Keegan beside him to chime in.

“No way, Cole, his stitches haven’t healed yet. And if a buncha boys see his dick, he’s definitely gonna pop one. Isn’t that right, flamer?”

Stan had sunk down even further in his seat than usual, palms pressed to his face. The teacher opened her mouth to step in, but before she could say anything, Stan heard an awfully familiar voice.

“Well shit, guys. They cut the tip of my dick off when I was a baby. If I’d known you were so interested, I totally woulda let you lick on it by now.” Stan grinned gratefully behind his hands, making a mental note to thank Richie later- because of course now he was being escorted out of the room, hand still on his zipper.

Both Keegan or Cole had known better than to give him trouble in health class from then on. It didn’t stop them from giving him a hard time in gym class, sure, but Stan was too moony-eyed for his best friend to care. He’d confided in his journal that night- journal, not a diary- that, well, he wouldn’t mind it too terribly much if it turned out Richie Tozier’s touch was the one to linger on his skin.

But there had been another time among the many that stood out for Stan. A time that had kept him up past midnight more than once. Stan didn’t think it would be incorrect to classify it as the thing that really made him officially, irrevocably, fall for Richie.

Hanukkah, sophomore year. The last day of Hanukkah, according to his journal, had fallen on December tenth that year. That was the day he’d written the longest journal entry of his life. It took up the majority of five pages, although that did account for a few scribbled out portions he’d changed his mind about.

It had been an average Hanukkah for the Urises. Better than average, if you asked Stan, because since he’d started high school, no one bothered him about being Jewish anymore. It was about the best Hanukkah gift he could ask for, just being able to go the eight days without facing scorn for his religion. It was the simple pleasures, Stan had always thought so.

Richie, as to follow the precedent he’d set for himself during previous Hanukkahs, had gotten Stan a ridiculous gift for each day. Stan’s favorite part, though, was thatRichie delivered them when the Jewish day actually began, the night before by American standards. Stan appreciated the attention to detail, even if the gifts were silly.

For the eighth and final day, Zos Chanukah, Richie had hurried over to Stan’s with a badly wrapped bundle in his arms. Stan had opened the door to deliver a quirked eyebrow and dubious glance toward itEagerly, Richie had shoved it square into the center of his chest. Stumbling backward, Stan had opened it carefully, since it was hard to tell exactly where the wrapping paper ended and the gift began.

“A... sweater?” Stan had asked hesitantly, looking at the pale blue mound of fabric before him.

“Yeah!! Look at the front, look at the front!” Richie had nodded anticipatorily, wiggling all over Stan’s front porch, unable to contain his excitement. Stan wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. Nonetheless, he stepped back and waved Richie in as he turned the sweater around, hoping he was holding it the right way.

A wobbly smile wormed its way across Stan’s face as he took it in. The sweater was mostly the pale blue he’d noted before, but it was striped with cream and golden yellow. The crown jewel of the whole thing, though, was the slightly crooked menorah in the center, around which the words ‘Let’s Get Lit!’ had been knitted.

Stan crumpled it in his hands, tossing the bunched sweater onto the vanity by their door, and launched himself into Richie. His arms wrapped tight around the other boy’s neck, and Stan swung up his legs to hook his ankles against the small of Richie’s back.

“It’s perfect! Where did you find it?” Stan had asked, more out of fleeting curiosity than any actual desire to know. But that changed quickly when Richie just shook his head and grinned.

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Stan had shrugged it off and worn it to school the next morning, never able to keep himself from beaming anytime his eyes fell on it again, or someone complimented it. He would proudly tell anyone who would listen that his “best friend in the whole world” had gotten it for him. Richie, if he was in earshot, would reply with a snarky,

“That thing just grew on him last night. We can’t get it off.”

On the way home from school, Stan had been thinking out loud about Richie’s lack of explanation for the sweater’s origin. A little too loud, evidently, because Bill had replied.

“Oh, he d-didn’t tell you? Richie’s b-been s-s-sewing the damn th-thing for ages.” In response, Richie had whipped around to glare at him so fast that his wheel yanked horizontal, and he flipped over the handlebars of his bike. Stan, of course, braked immediately and went to help him up. Not without a few stray giggles, but Stan thought he masked them well.

Pulling his best friend up from the ground and brushing the gravel out of his elbows and chin, Stan asked Richie why he hadn’t just said so in the first place. Richie had flushed and looked away, wiping at a stray scratch on his cheekbone with one knuckle.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he’d repeated, just as stubborn as always, but a bit quieter.

Stan had planted a quick peck on his clean cheek and mounted his bike. Neither of the boys ever brought it up again, but Stan could never shake the warm feeling in his chest when he remembered that day.

He’d been stuck on Richie Tozier ever since, and Stanley Uris had made no effort to change that.

Stan took a deep breath at the thought, which in turn submerged his head underwater, breaking the spell. He brought his feet back underneath him and broke the surface again, pushing the dark, wet curls from his face. Well, that was one way to snap back to reality. He saw a mop of red hair in the distance, and began kicking again, still further away from the shoreline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, sorry it’s been forever!! school is absolutely zapping my motivation, but i just had to write something for hanukkah. stan’s jewish life doesn’t get enough attention imo. hope u enjoyed this chapter (and also proof that i haven’t abandoned the story)


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